


Remember My Name

by trinipedia



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Big Bang, Big Bang Challenge, Challenge Response, Community: vampirebigbang, Fanfiction, J2AU, M/M, Slash, Strong Language, Vampires, Violence, alternative universe, characters death (but happy ending-for some? XD), vampirebb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-08
Updated: 2011-10-08
Packaged: 2018-09-17 10:14:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9319220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trinipedia/pseuds/trinipedia
Summary: Jensen is a perfectly normal, run-of-the-mill middle-aged man, with an ordinary life in a boring town with a job at a secret organization that monitors the activities of supernatural beings around the world. Suddenly the men in charge of surveiling some gypsies-suspected of being something way less friendly and with way more teeth-mysteriously disappears, and everything gets turned upside down. Thrown in the center of the action, Jensen will have to make friends with the gypsies and discover what's hidden in their reserved community; the outcome seems clear enough, but they are different from what Jensen expected, and he most certainly didn't expect to meet a gypsy like Jared.





	1. Prologue: Fleeting Dusk

**Author's Note:**

> **Amazingly amazing banner artist:** [](http://thepuppeteer.livejournal.com/profile)[thepuppeteer](http://thepuppeteer.livejournal.com/)
> 
>  **Amazingly amazing divider artist:** [](http://calmena.livejournal.com/profile)[calmena](http://calmena.livejournal.com/)
> 
>  **Official artist:** [](http://coffeegirl18.livejournal.com/profile)[coffeegirl18](http://coffeegirl18.livejournal.com/) ART MASTERPOST TO COME
> 
>  **Amazingly amazing beta AND fanmixer:** the incredibly awesome [](http://tygermine.livejournal.com/profile)[tygermine](http://tygermine.livejournal.com/) [DOWNLOAD Heavy In Your Arms MIX](http://www.sendspace.com/file/59j6rv)  
>   
>  **Disclaimers:** The ideas are all mine, and they have been for years, but if there's anything you think you recognize, I probably didn't write it. Written for the [](http://vampirebigbang.livejournal.com/profile)[vampirebigbang](http://vampirebigbang.livejournal.com/) challenge.  
>   
>  **Notes and thanks:** there would have been no fic without [](http://calmena.livejournal.com/profile)[calmena](http://calmena.livejournal.com/)'s unrelenting support, handholding and cheerleading, and without [](http://tygermine.livejournal.com/profile)[tygermine](http://tygermine.livejournal.com/)'s friendly ears and fabulous beta'ing skills. So thank you, girls. And thank you to [](http://thepuppeteer.livejournal.com/profile)[thepuppeteer](http://thepuppeteer.livejournal.com/) for the last minute art. It's more than I could have asked for. And finally, of course I thank [](http://inanna-maat.livejournal.com/profile)[inanna_maat](http://inanna-maat.livejournal.com/)...if the fandom calls her a goddess, there's a reason XD

****  
  


  
_7th of September_  
  
The night was dark, and the woods looked even scarier than they usually did.  
Every murmur, noise or movement made Steve's senses tingle.  
Even the whisper of the wind sounded dangerous at his trained ears.  
The man was kneeling behind some bushes, on the outskirts of the gypsies' camp; his eyes were focused on the center of the group, where a bonfire was crackling.  
Something was bound to go down, that night: it was the new moon, and his instructions were clear.  
Despite it all, though, Steve had a hard time believing the men he could see right in front of him were a menace.  
He didn't know them all that much, but he did spend time with them.  
Especially with one of them.  
His gaze shifted on one of the men around the fire; he was wearing a white, un-ironed shirt, half-opened, and had long, wavy, brown hair.  
He was strumming an old guitar, as the rest tried to clumsily sing along.  
He threw his head back and laughed, a loud, clear sound that sort of warmed Steve's heart, for a moment.  
No, Chris was not a killer, no matter what anyone said.  
Steve took out his satellite phone, pressed a button and waited, until someone answered after the fifth ring, just when he was about to hung up.  
He groaned to himself, before starting to talk.  
"This is all wrong" he hissed.  
"You gotta check it all again, man. They can't be what we're looking for, and I'm not going to massacre a whole community just because of some data that are flawed at best! Please, I-"  
He bit his lower lip.  
"I can't do it, not if I'm not sure. Just tell me you're sure. If you're not, maybe I could stay a while longer?"  
Steve sighed.  
"I've been checking on them very closely for the last few months, and they've never hunted or killed. They are only trying to stay off the radar, and yes, that does usually indicate they're hiding something, and still...what if they're not plotting but protecting, instead? What if there's more than what meets the eye, here? I've got this weird feeling that they-"  
A branch snapping made Steve's head snap up.  
"Shit, I think someone's following me" he growled, standing up and sliding behind the trunk of the tree that was next to him "I'll call later and we will discuss this. Meanwhile, no one's dying tonight. Not on my watch."  
Steve hastily stored the phone away in his pants and, as he heard the steps getting closer, he ran.  
He knew it couldn't be any of Chris' men, and only they knew the woods as well as Steve did.  
There was no way they were going to find him, not on a night as dark as that.  
And still, inexplicably, when Steve took a side battered road, there they were, their weapons pointed at him.  
Steve's blood went cold.  
"Who are you? What do you want from me?" he hissed, assuming his defensive stance even if he knew it was useless.  
He had six guns on him, and who knew how many more there were hiding in the shadows.  
One of the men, a huge guy who towered over the rest of the group, built like a brick house, took a step forward.  
"The vial" he ordered "hand it over."  
Steve clenched his fists, and stared defiantly at the man for a handful of seconds.  
The man just stared back, unfazed.  
In the end, the fight just left Steve, and he pulled the vial out of his inner pocket.  
The man smiled, pleased, and held out his hand.  
Steve moved forward, as if to pass the vial over, but at the last second he dropped it on the ground, crushing it with the heel of his boot afterwards.  
The liquid got instantly absorbed, leaving in its wake only some broken glass and a dark patch of grass.  
"Go to Hell" Steve spatted, as his eyes shone with fury.  
The man's back went stiff, and with a sudden move, surprisingly fast for a man his size, he wrapped a hand around Steve's neck, slamming him against a tree, and Steve started feeling light-headed.  
"Bad move, Carlson" the man growled, angrily "really fucking bad."  
Steve spit him in the face.  
"Screw you" he hissed back, his fingers around the man's wrist as he tried to break free.   
The man laughed, and it was so different from the sound of Chris' laughter, that Steve flinched.  
God, it seemed like a lifetime before, even if it had probably been less than two hours.  
As black started eating at the corners of his field of vision, Steve's last thought was for Chris.  
Chris, with his big hands and rare smiles.  
Chris, strong and proud but still so fragile underneath.  
His Chris.  
 _I'm sorry, babe_ Steve thought, regretfully.  
 _So sorry I never got to tell you the truth._  
Maybe it was better that way, though; at least he didn't have to live through Chris' death.  
The man threw him on the ground, towering over him as he cocked his gun.  
"The puppeteer says hi" he said, before he pulled the trigger.

 


	2. First Sunset

  
Every story starts with a hero.  
Someone brave, ready to risk his life and everything he has to save the world and those he cares about.  
Well, then we have it all wrong, because that's not how our story starts.  
Jensen was not a hero, not even close, and he most certainly was not brave.  
Jensen was a perfectly normal, run-of-the-mill middle-aged man with an ordinary life in a boring town, which was just the way he liked it.   
Truth is, he had never known anything different.  
There was only one thing unusual in his life; his job.  
Well, not the job itself, more likely the place he worked at.  
Jensen worked in a secret organization (like the Men in black, but way less cool) whose purpose was to monitor the activities of supernatural beings around the world.  
But even there, Jensen was an accountant.  
He simply managed the organization's finances and made sure they kept afloat, turning what could have been an exciting life opportunity in void, mechanical work.  
But that was Jensen, for you.  
Normalcy and routine made him feel happy, safe, protected.  
He didn't talk much, and he didn't have many friends, which made his life, basically, dull, exactly as he liked it.  
Jensen had grown up in an orphanage first, then in a handful of different foster homes; no matter how hard he had tried to please his temporary parents, it looked like nothing he did was ever good enough.  
He was never good enough.  
That's why he had grown up wishing with all his might to be just one in the crowd, like everyone else, to melt in the background and not being pointed at like the star of a freak show.  
He liked being boring, he liked being rutinary and he liked for his life to be nothing but ordinary.  
Or at least, that had been the case until that morning.  
When he arrived at the office, it was chaos.  
Everyone was flailing around like crazy bees, and there were shouting, phones ringing and papers everywhere.  
There were strangers in dark suits and sunglasses taking notes and talking to his colleagues, and two of them were sitting at his desk.  
Jensen blinked, confused, as he stood on the doorstep with his briefcase in one hand and his Starbucks decaf medium drip latte firmly gripped in the other.  
"What's going on?" he tried to ask, but the colleague he was talking to ignored him and kept walking.  
"Alona!" he exclaimed, louder, finally grabbing the blonde girl's attention and effectively stopping her mid-stride.  
She turned and her eyes went wide when she saw him standing there.  
"Sorry, Jensen, I didn't see you" she said, apologetically, but she probably didn't mean it.  
No one ever noticed Jensen, anyway.  
"What's going on?" he asked again, impatiently.  
"And who are those men occupying my desk? When can I start working?"  
Alona looked at him with that sort of pitiful glance she usually reserved for him.  
"I don't think you'll be doing much work today, honey" she explained.  
"Those men are from the central office, and they're here for an investigation. Steve's gone."  
Jensen paled.  
Steve had been one of those few friends we were talking about, and all Jensen knew was that he was on a mission undercover.  
"Where..." he cleared his throat.  
"Where is he?"  
Alona patted his arm.  
"We don't know. He's MIA."  
Before Jensen could ask further, a voice on the intercom informed him that his presence was requested in the tech room.  
"Looks like Mike wants to talk to you" Alona stated, stepping back.  
"I have to go too, anyway, the boss is going ballistic and needs me."  
Jensen nodded, dumbfounded, before taking his way to the underground floor where the tech department was.  
His brain was having trouble processing the information.  
Steve was the best agent the organization had, he was careful and skilled, and there was no way he had gone missing just like that.  
Jensen didn't like that disruption of his routine, not at all.

 

  
Jensen expected to find Mike stressed out and frustrated, considering that Steve had vanished into thin air while under the vigil eye of Mike’s tech devices, but what he found instead was a cold, resolute Mike sitting in front of his computers with his jaw clenched tightly and his eyes trained on a few blinking red dots on the screen.  
“You called?” Jensen attempted, expecting to be ignored again, but Mike lifted a hand to show he heard him and nodded towards the chair next to his.  
Jensen took a seat, and waited, fidgeting nervously.  
It was not the first time Mike had asked for his help; he was good at that kind of stuff (not as good as Mike, obviously, the man was a _genius_ ) and he was also the only one Mike let inside his little world.  
Even if he could have had as many assistants as his heart desired, he refused to get any. He had his own way of working, and Jensen, who had the chance of watching the other man in action, had to admit that there was no other person in the world that could have kept up with Mike.  
The only reason why they could work together was that each of them followed a different path and only confronted the results once they were done.  
Jensen was very well organized, precise and analytic, which usually led him to see that something Mike’s overexcited exam missed.  
“Something is most definitely off, here” Mike muttered, snapping Jensen out of his musings and back to the situation at hand.  
Jensen felt even slightly guilty for daydreaming while Steve might have been in danger.  
Okay, screw that.  
Steve was in danger for sure-if he was even still alive.  
No one went in the undercover business unaware of the highly probable consequences, and Steve had always known that the day would have come when he would not come back from a mission, hell, he even joked about it.  
God, Jensen would have given anything to hear one of Steve’s lame jokes, right then.  
Mike’s snapping fingers in front of his face brought him back once more.  
“Boy wonder, I need your undivided attention” Mike stated, starting to show him notes, numbers and grids.  
He had apparently been monitoring Steve’s movements, and everything had been dandy until he had suddenly disappeared from the system, around 3 AM of the previous night.  
Mike hadn’t been able to localize him yet, and that was unheard of; the localization device was implanted under the agents’ skin and was 100% undetectable, so there was no way the gypsies might have found it.  
Besides, they were _gypsies_! How the heck did they manage to put together the equipment necessary to track it, anyway?  
Jensen shook his head.  
“Now what?” he inquired, and Mike shrugged.  
“Someone else has to go undercover and look for clues” he replied, and his expression told Jensen everything that was going through his friend’s mind.  
“Hell no” he exclaimed, standing up.  
“No freaking way you are taking Steve’s place! You don’t have the training, the preparation or the skills!”  
Mike narrowed his eyes.  
“But I can see, hear and analyze things Steve wouldn’t have noticed, not even in a million years” he retorted.  
“This is an investigation job, Jensen. And yeah, Steve was the best, but we all know he tended to think with his dick first and his guts second, not much brains involved.”  
Jensen huffed.  
Maybe Mike was right, but that still didn’t explain why he suddenly thought he was the most qualified to go on the field.  
“It’s my fault if we lost Steve” Mike said, and Jensen realized he’d said it all out loud.  
“So it’s on me to find him, even if only to give his family a body to bury.”  
Jensen swallowed.  
He understood, of course he did.  
“I couldn’t do it” he said, honestly.  
And he meant it; no matter how much he cared about Steve, there was no way he was going to go undercover and risk his life.  
He liked living, thank you very much.  
A shiver ran down his spine.  
Mike clasped his shoulder.  
“I know you’re not a lion, Jen, don’t worry about that” he replied with a small smile “no one would have asked you.”  
And that hurt, even if Mike didn’t mean to offend him.  
Yeah, Jensen was a coward, but he didn’t like for it to be stated that blatantly.  
He stared sourly at the notes on Mike’s desk, trying to wrap his head around the numbers and codes, until he made his decision.  
“I’m going to help you” he said.  
“Let me.”  
Mike stared at him, his mouth half open as if to deny him, but then he closed it and nodded.  
He was stubborn, but not stupid.  
He knew he couldn’t do it alone.  
“Have you already thought about what you’re gonna tell Tom?” Jensen asked, and Mike looked away.  
“He’d do the same, if it was me” he said, but Jensen knew better.  
He could already see the pain in Tom’s eyes, but they’d have made it through.  
They always did.  
Not for the first time, he felt the sting of jealousy in the pit of his stomach; he wanted what they had, too, but.  
As if someone heard his thoughts, his beeper went off, and Jensen’s heart gave a leap in his chest.  
“Loverboy calling, Jenny, you better run” Mike mocked him, and Jensen blushed straight to the roots of his hair.  
“Shut up, dickhead” he grumbled, before scrambling up and all but running upstairs, still hearing Mike’s snicker in his wake

 

  
Jensen didn't know when exactly he fell in love with Misha.  
It hadn't been love at first sight, mainly because Jensen had never been in love before.  
He was not exactly a virgin, of course, but he hadn't gotten close, real close to anyone, ever.  
And still, he had always craved the contact, the bond, the sharing that being in a relationship would have given him.  
He didn't want that with Misha, not back then, at least.  
First of all, Misha was his boss, and he had read and seen enough chick flicks to know that it was bound to end badly.  
Besides, Misha had a wife, even if she was always away and none of them had ever seen her with him at any public event.  
He had her picture on his desk, and he kept talking about _Vicky and I_ , which was more than enough to kill any romantic trip Jensen's delusional mind decided to take from time to time.  
A glance, a smile, a lingering touch and there he went, imagining there was heat, and want in those eyes, so blue that they looked almost unreal.  
And then, suddenly, Misha remembered that _Vicky and him_ had dinner reservations, so he'd better go, because _women get easily mad if you're late and a mad wife means not getting laid, and how frustrating is that after a good hard day at work, eh, Jensen?_  
Jensen's brain always caught up when Misha's thick, rich voice curled around the two syllables of his name, and he usually just nodded, since he had been too busy staring at the way Misha's lips were moving to pay any attention to what the other man was actually saying.  
So yeah, Jensen didn't know when he fell for Misha, but as it was he was so damn gone for him that there was no escaping it.  
And everyone, _everyone_ seemed to know.  
Only Misha -thankfully- remained blissfully oblivious.  
Jensen cleared his throat, before he knocked softly on the door.  
Misha was turned, his back towards Jensen as he flapped through one of his manila folders.  
"Jensen!" he exclaimed, as if he was surprised to see him, despite having called for him less than two minutes before "take a seat."  
Jensen obeyed, stomach turned in knots as it always did when he was in Misha's presence.  
Misha sat across from him, and stared, for a long instant.  
"How are you doing?" he asked, and Jensen blinked, confused.  
"Steve was a friend of yours" Misha continued "you must be pretty shaken up."  
Jensen licked his lower lip unconsciously, and nodded.  
"I...I guess I still didn't digest it" he said "like it's not real, you know? I haven't heard from him in a while, and I just."  
He shrugged, unable to continue, and Misha grabbed his arm, squeezed it, sympathetic expression on his earnest face.  
"We will look for him, I promise" he stated, resolutely.  
"We'll find out what happened."  
Jensen's gaze shifted.  
"Are you...do you know that Mike intends to replace Steve on the job?"  
The words were out before he could think about it, and his eyes went wide as soon as they had left his mouth.  
Maybe he was not supposed to say it.  
Maybe Mike was gonna get in trouble, maybe-  
Misha's grip tightened again.  
"Calm down, Jensen, it's okay" he said, his voice gentle.  
"I knew about it."  
And that, right there, felt like betrayal.  
If Misha knew, how could he let Mike do it?  
Didn't he realize how dangerous was it gonna be? How suicidal?  
Jensen didn't want to lose any other friends, dammit!  
Misha sighed, Jensen's thoughts plain to see on his face, apparently.  
"The program is getting cut" he revealed, a deep furrow in his brow.  
"We are not getting any further support from the government. Apparently, our discoveries have been too few and far between, and they don't justify for the organization to keep operating."  
Jensen was stunned.  
"But-but we are doing well!" he protested.  
"We keep inside our budget, we never ask for anything else, and we-"  
Misha shook his head.  
"No one is questioning your job, Jensen. I know. It's not enough, though."  
Jensen looked away, and finally he got why Mike was so dead set on fixing it.  
He knew they didn't have much time left, and there was no way they were going to be able to discover what had happened to Steve without the help of the organization's technology.  
"How long do we have?" he inquired.  
"Couple of months" Misha replied "three, if we get something solid to show."  
Jensen nodded.  
"I'll help Mike" he said.  
"We'll analyze everything Steve sent through, make heads or tails of whatever happened there and solve this damn mess."  
Misha looked slightly relieved, as if knowing that Jensen was involved was reassuring for him, and there it was, the stupid, ridiculous hope blooming in Jensen's chest.  
"Thanks, man" Misha said, his voice slightly shaky, and Jensen could only nod.  
He didn't have the guts to go look for the truth, but he was going to do everything in his power to wipe away that defeated expression on Misha's face.  
Unrequited or not, Jensen loved Misha, and he wanted him to be happy.  
Even if he was never going to be his.

 

  
"Fuck, no! You are _not_ going to do it! I don't like, it's _not_ gonna happen, you understand me?"  
Tom was yelling, and Jensen cringed inwardly.  
He knew that was going to happen, but it still shocked him; Tom was usually so calm and collected, so different from the force of nature Mike turned out to be more often than not.  
"You've got to let me do this, baby" Mike was protesting, his tone tired and frustrated "it's going to be my only chance to-"  
"I said _no_!"  
Jensen pinched the bridge of his nose.  
The rest of the office had gone completely silent, including the suits from the central office.  
There was so much anguish in Tom's voice, so much resolution and drive in Mike's that no one wanted to come between them.  
A few noises came from the room they were locked in, the sound of shattered glass and items thrown around making Jensen flinch, then low voices they couldn't make out the words of.  
When the door was finally unlocked, it was like a spell had been broken.  
Everyone snapped instantly back into motion, as if nothing had happened, pretending to ignore the two defeated men leaving the room.  
Jensen couldn't ignore them, though, not even if he had wanted to.  
Tom's eyes were red-rimmed, and his lower lip was trembling.  
He narrowed his eyes at Jensen, probably blaming him too, before he stomped away.  
Mike was not better off: he was pale, and his jaw was clenched.  
"We've got work to do" he hissed "let's go."  
Jensen followed him back to the tech department, sparing a last glance at Tom's sagged back.  
The man looked like he was carrying the world on his shoulder, and that was probably not far from the truth.

 

  
They didn't have a whole lot to go by; records of every phone call Steve made to the office, the pictures he snapped and managed to send through, even a couple of video recordings, but nothing else.  
They weren't even sure what it was that Steve was actually looking out for; it was classified information, and despite the situation the government hadn't wanted to divulge it.  
Both Mike and Jensen hoped they would manage to get Misha to spill, before Mike had to dive in head first, even if, considering the creatures they dealt with on a daily basis, it was not like Mike could have really gone prepared.  
Monster training was something extremely secret, that only those going out on the field had the clearance to check into.  
What Mike was about to do hadn't been authorized; no one knew about it, outside their office, of course.  
Misha had to pull all the strings he could, call in from favors and so on to ensure they'd even had the chance to organize the operation.  
The window was going to be small, almost too small, and if Mike wasn't able to find the truth in ten days the project would have been shut and those killers would have scattered all over the world without a trace.  
They had to bring them to justice, but couldn't without proof, and nothing in Steve's files helped them.  
What else could have happened, though?  
Steve was alone in woods he knew like the back of his hands with a group of gypsies he had to keep an eye on because they were suspected of being something that had to be terminated.  
A pretty black and white case, there, as far as they were concerned.  
Jensen spent every waking hour in the tech department; most of the time, Mike was with him, but as the deadline came closer he started to spend more time with Tom, who kept coming to work but looked like death warmed over.  
Everyone around was fearfully waiting for the moment he was going to break.  
They had to handle it to him, though: Tom was being as strong, stoic and supportive as he could be, and if his hands were shaking or he suddenly started to suffer from a weird allergy that made his eyes water every time someone entered in his office, his colleagues respected him enough to pretend they didn't notice.  
Jensen's heart clenched at seeing both his friends so crushed, but he couldn't help feeling a little jealous, anyway.  
He had never cared about anyone this much, and of course no one ever gave Jensen such importance in his life.  
 _What would Misha do, if it was me?_ he asked himself.  
 _Would he cry? Would he beg me, threaten me not to go?_  
He always stopped before he could think up an answer for those questions.  
He wasn't sure he'd have liked it, whatever it was going to be.

 

  
The days had gone by fast, way too fast, in fact, while Jensen and Mike studied the maps of the zones, outlined the best paths and courses of action, arranged supplies, planned every day meticulously.  
It was late, or early, depending on how anyone would have looked at it, and Mike was sitting at his desk, in his dark, silent office.  
That was it: the morning after he was going to leave, and he wasn't sure he was ever going to come back.  
When he had left, Tom was asleep.  
Make did feel bad for slipping him the pill, but he knew he was not strong enough to take Tom's betrayed look, his tears and his pleas without caving in, and he really couldn't afford to be distracted, now.  
 _I hope someday you'll understand_ Mike thought, as he turned a picture in his hands, inspecting it under the lab's lamp.  
If the gypsies were hiding something (and they surely were) Mike was going to find out what it was, or die trying.  
He made a face.  
It wasn't like he was looking forward to die-there were so many things he still didn't do in his life, but this was bigger, more important than his own future.  
Who knew how many more people were going to be slaughtered or made vanish if they didn't get to the bottom of Steve's disappearance!  
And it was on him.  
All of it was on Mike's hands, because he lost Steve, he fucking lost him and Mike just didn't make mistakes.  
Suddenly, the light hit another picture, that was a little askew on the desk, and Mike frowned.  
It was the last image Steve sent through before they lost contact.  
There was something on it, something Mike didn't notice before.  
He took the picture and his magnifying glass and focused on that corner.  
Sure enough, there it was.  
His jaw dropped, as his eyes went wide.  
It was not possible, in fact his rational brain was unable to explain what he was seeing, unless he started reassessing everything he always considered true until then.  
"What the-" he started to mutter, but then he heard muffled footsteps and before he could scream everything went black.  
His last conscious thought was that he didn't even say goodbye, and Tom was going to kill him.

 

  
It was still dark when Jensen arrived at the office.  
He had tried to sleep some more, thinking he was going to need his brains to be fresh and rested for a last minute overall check, but there had been no way.  
He was so worried about what was going to happen, how Mike was going to handle the mission and how Tom was going to deal with the whole thing that he had been unable to sleep properly since Steve had disappeared.  
Pieces of weird dreams were floating amongst his thoughts, and even if Jensen was not able to set them apart and focus on them long enough to question their meaning, they were close to the surface enough to bother him nonetheless.  
Jensen was used to weird dreams; he had them since he was a kid, but never gave them much importance, not even when he started working for the Organization and discovered that there were inexplicable forces at work all around him.  
Yeah, the dreams might have been sort of premonitory, but his days were already so dull that even if he had discovered glimpses of his own future in his dreams, he'd have ignored them, so not to take away from his life the last thrill of the unknown.  
All in all, it didn't seem worth it.  
The elevator dinged, opening its doors, and Jensen stumbled out, rubbing sleep away from his eyes.  
There was a faint yellow glow coming from the lab, and Jensen found himself smiling fondly.  
Mike was surely there already, going through the data one last time before leaving.  
The door was half open, but when Jensen pushed it, it didn't bulge.  
Jensen frowned.  
Something was obviously keeping the door in its current position, and he didn't like it.  
"Mike?" he called out.  
"Mike, open up, it's me."  
When his friend didn't answer, Jensen's nervousness stepped up a notch.  
As he kept calling, he pushed harder, and finally, after a hard shove of his shoulder, the door slammed open.  
Jensen almost fell face first on the lab's concrete floor, as his foot slipped on a huge pool of-  
Oh, God.  
Jensen's face went green, and he felt his quick breakfast coming back up his throat.  
He stumbled back, a hand pressed against his mouth and his eyes wide in terror and realization.  
There, on the floor, laid Mike, face down in his own blood spilling from the deep, huge wound on the back of his head.  
It only took a glance for Jensen to know his friend had been dead for a while; his skin was unnaturally pale, and the blood had dried up on the edges.  
Jensen wanted to scream, cry, maybe even faint, but he couldn't.  
The shock was still too huge for him to react with anything resembling normalcy.  
He turned on his heels and swayed back to the main floor, where the night guard was.  
As soon as Sterling saw him approaching, he was up in a second, and Jensen thought briefly about how shaken up he must had looked like.  
"Mike is" he started, hoarsely, grabbing a chair to keep himself upright "Mike is. Send someone. Anyone. Everyone. Now."  
His voice sounded cold, void and metallic, and he was shaking so badly the chair clattered against the tiles.  
Sterling grabbed his walkie and called out for help, as Jensen's knees finally gave up on him.

 

  
Everything happened in a daze, after that.  
Jensen registered the office filling up quickly, the suits from the central office scattered everywhere, Misha's voice barking orders, Alona's make-up running down her cheeks, Tom's absence.  
People were trying to talk to him, but he couldn't hear them.  
It was like his head was filled with cotton and there was thick gauze in front of his eyes.  
Three guys dressed in white with red crosses painted on the back of their shirts came by, straight to the tech lab, and came back carrying a huge, seemingly heavy black bag all zipped up.  
Jensen distantly realized that Mike was in there, and he was never going to see him again, listen to his voice as he explained some weird theory with abstruse details which, in the end, somehow always made sense.  
It was like, if he couldn't talk to Mike, Jensen had no reason to talk at all.  
That was how he finally found himself seated in Misha's office, as his boss looked at him, a concerned expression on his handsome face.  
"Jensen?" he called out to him, softly, shaking him slightly.  
"Jen, can you hear me? Please, man, we're all getting freaked out, here, especially me."  
The worry seeping through Misha's voice, always so calm and collected even in the worst possible scenarios, was enough to break through Jensen's trance, and he blinked, as the world slowly came back into focus.  
Misha let out a deep, relieved breath.  
"Thank God, Jensen. I didn't know what else to do. I was about to kiss you out of your stupor" Misha said, trying to lighten up the air with a joke, but all he managed to do was to confuse Jensen and made him feel even more uncomfortable.  
"I'm sorry, Misha" Jensen muttered, hoping the man would leave him alone, but Misha sat on the corner of his own desk and clasped his hands, his expression turning serious.  
"Listen, man, I really didn't want to do this" he started, making a face "but the central office didn't give me a choice."  
Jensen knew what it all was about before Misha actually said it out loud.  
In a twisted way, he should have seen it coming.  
"You have to take Mike's place for the mission."  
Jensen felt the fear wrap around his stomach and squeeze, and grabbed the armrests of the chair so tight his knuckles went white.  
"No, I-I can't, Misha, you can't ask me that" he protested, hating how small, pleading and weak his voice sounded.  
Misha's gaze shifted.  
"Oh, trust me, I know" he replied, without looking at Jensen "but I'm not asking."  
Jensen swallowed, hard, and for a moment he could almost see himself falling on his knees and throwing up all over Misha's white, soft carpet.  
He didn't, though.  
Misha seemed to sense his discomfort, though, because he got closer and grabbed his arm.  
"I'd do anything not to do this" he said "you have to believe me, Jensen. But you're the only one who has the knowledge and the preparation to go into this. We don't have any more time to prepare someone else from scratch; you understand this, don't you?"  
Jensen nodded, without saying anything, and Misha went on.  
"Don't you want to avenge your friends? Don't you want to find out what went wrong? There's no one else, man. Just you."  
And it probably was the _just you_ , said in such resigned, pitiful tone what pushed Jensen to accept.  
That, and the sudden realization that Steve had left a grieving family, Mike an inconsolable lover and Jensen...Jensen had no one that would have suffered if he hadn't come back.  
Better him that anyone else.  
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Misha pulled him closer and wrapped his arms around Jensen's torso, hugging him tightly.  
Jensen felt his eyes water and his breath hitch, but didn't have the guts to hug Misha back.  
If he had, he might have never been able to let go.  
He stepped back, shaking his head to clear it up.  
"Okay" Misha said, his eyes suspiciously shiny "okay. Do you know what Steve was after?"  
Jensen shook his head.  
"Classified" he replied, and Misha sighed.  
"Vampires" he let out in a hiss, and Jensen's blood turned cold.  
Wait, _what_?  
"You are not serious" he stuttered out, going even paler.  
"What the fuck?"  
Misha cringed.  
"Look, Jen, we're not sure" he tried to soothe him.  
"Steve was supposed to find out if the group of gypsies we sent him after was in fact a vampire's nest, but he never could. He was pretty sure about it, actually, but without proofs we have not been able to take them out."  
Jensen passed a trembling hand through his spiky hair.  
"What do you expect _me_ to do, Misha?" he snapped, a little more forcefully than he intended.  
"I have no training! No knowledge! It's like sending a sheep in a wolves' cave!"  
Misha pinched the bridge of his nose.  
"That's the point" he muttered, obviously tired and closer to throw the towel than Jensen had ever seen him.  
"We need to send someone they won't suspect of. If we had chosen a trained armed member, there would have been no way he'd have been able to infiltrate the nest. Steve himself had to approach them from afar, because he wouldn't have been believable."  
Jensen's jaw dropped.  
"Did-did Mike know this?"  
Misha nodded.  
"In fact, he was the one who came up with the plan in the first place" he told Jensen, giving him an envelope.  
"These are Mike's notes and schemes, if you want to take a look, but as far as I know he shared it all with you during the last few weeks. He simply withdrew the details because we asked him to avoid involving you more than what was strictly necessary."  
Jensen let out a bitter chuckle, and could see Misha's expression turn slightly hurt.  
He took a deep breath to calm himself down: it wasn't the other man's fault if things had gone to hell, now, was it?  
No need for Jensen to make all of that harder on Misha than it already was.  
"Well, we have no other choice" he stated, standing up and grabbing the envelope.  
"Guess I gotta go get ready" he said, still unable to wrap his head around the fact that he had just accepted to be a pawn in a game he had no clue about and where people already _died_.  
"Jensen, wait" Misha stopped him with his hand already on the doorknob.  
"Be careful, okay? We- _I_ will be waiting for your return."  
Jensen nodded slightly, biting his lower lip.  
Maybe...  
He cleared his throat.  
"Misha" he started, and had to swallow around the knot in his throat before he could go on.  
"If-if I come back...will you listen to me? There's something I have to tell you."  
There was a pause, and when Misha replied, he was so close that Jensen could feel his warm breath against the back of his neck.  
"Sure."  
He didn't ask further, he didn't try to get Jensen to spill the beans right then, and that's how Jensen knew Misha understood.  
Jensen just needed a reason to come back.

 

  
_"What's a vampire?  
How's a vampire?  
How can it be defined?  
Where can we start to describe something shapeless, with a story that trails back to before humanity?  
These questions have tormented inquiring minds for centuries.  
The answer, we think, must be hidden in history, if we forget about literary myths and concentrate on the truth.  
That's not necessarily true, as we will see.  
History describes all kinds of vampires, and even those who spent their whole life trying to discover the truth have different opinions about it."  
  
from the **Van Helsing Vampiric Society**_  
  
Of course, Jensen knew about vampires, on a basic level.  
All new employees were given a superficial speech on their first day: welcome, we hope you can keep an open mind, monsters are real, and Santa is not.  
Jensen shook his head.  
It had been so long since then.  
He could vaguely remember the wide eyes, the mouths open, the shock plain to see on the faces of his colleagues, but he can't remember his own reaction.  
He didn't recall being too impressed, though; maybe somewhere inside of him he had always known that there was something else out there, hiding in the dark.  
Vampires, werewolves, shapeshifter-no matter how they decided to call them, they were nothing more than other races.  
That was what the organization was about: they didn't just hunt and kill for the sake of it, but gave the creatures the benefit of the doubt.  
Jensen wasn't sure about what exactly set their _modus operandi_ , but he had heard about some real hunters that taught a thing or two about the real meaning of evil to the founders of the organization.  
Knowing that there were more people in the field out to get the bad guys had always made it easier for Jensen to sleep at night, because he didn't know if he was going to be able to just annihilate someone only because he might have become dangerous someday.  
Screw that, he was never going to be able to do it and that was it.  
Luckily, that was not what Misha expected from him: as far as he could see in Mike's notes, he was simply supposed to bring back data, proofs of the real nature of the gypsies and if possible some genetic material for the lab to analyze.  
Once they'd known if the guys were or not vampires, the central office was going to decide how to deal with them.  
Up to then, they hadn't been dangerous, not really, but now Steve was gone and if they had kill him, well.  
They were not going to live (or, _undie_ ) much longer, that was for sure.  
There was a printed page which title said _How much do you know about vampires?_  
Jensen snorted.  
He only knew what he'd seen in movies: they were pale, couldn't stand sunlight, holy water and crosses, hated garlic and could only be killed with a spike through the heart.  
In fact, if he had to take Buffy the vampire slayer as the absolute truth, they turned into dust if spiked just right, and were incredibly ugly when vamping up.  
Of course, Jensen refused to believe vampire sparkled, no matter what Stephenie what's-her-name said.  
The most important piece of information, common to all of Jensen's sources, was that vampires survived on sucking blood-from humans or animals, depending if they were naughty or nice.  
Until Steve and Mike, the gypsies hadn't left a trail of mysterious deaths, so maybe they were the nice kind and only attacked because they thought they were in danger?  
There was no way for Jensen to be sure, though, up to the point when one of them was going to have him pinned to a wall with his canines at an inch from Jensen's neck.  
He swallowed, nervously, and curled his fingers around his throat, protectively, as he turned one more page and found a small booklet bound in red.  
 **"De Nosferatu Misteriis"**.  
He bit his lower lip, staring at the ruined cover, and wondered, not for the first time, if he was going to actually survive the mission.  
Maybe they were simply trying to get rid of him, and they knew he had no chance.  
Then, Misha's expression and his words came back to Jensen's mind, and so did Mike and all the efforts he spent into trying to cover all the bases, and he knew he couldn't throw in the towel.  
One of his best friends was missing and the other was gone, for good, and it was only up to him to discover the truth.  
He lifted his chin, took a deep breath and opened the book.  
  
 _Nosferatu, Undead.  
These two simple words reveal a terrible secret, a mystery that has always been hidden from both civilians and scientists simply because it has no explanation.  
But if we humbly accept the limitations of what we can understand and the vastness of the unknown phenomena, then we cannot deny all the evidence and fears handed down by history and ancient cultures, preserved in the shadow of the blinding scientific progress.  
Death may not coincide with the eternal rest, neither physical nor spiritual; it can also spill over into a sort of abominable existence.   
"Death" may be the condition of "life" for damned, bloodthirsty souls.  
It's time, gentlemen, that reason and science undertake the study of the occult, because this world of darkness can only be illuminated by the light of knowledge. That's when the man will be able to fight those forces that, hidden in the shadows of our doctrines, are plotting against our lives.  
Only overcoming the prejudice of non-scientific nature of these events, humanity will be able to defeat what may become the disease of the twentieth century, a disease that escapes medical explanations, and a contagion that haunts its victims beyond the grave: the vampirism._  
  
Jensen shivered, lifting up the lapels of his jacket.  
When did the room get so cold?  
He was pretty sure that there was no window open...probably it was just his imagination, over stimulated by the booklet.  
And still, he didn't put it down until he had read it to the last line, terrified and somehow weirdly intrigued by it all.  
He understood why vampires had no trouble alluring people: they were dangerous, deadly creatures, but they were also interesting and complex, and there was so much about them still to be discovered and analyzed.  
A discreet knock pulled him out of his musings.  
"It's time to go" a muffled voice informed him, from outside the door, and Jensen straightened his tie.  
His gaze kept shifting, from side to side, filled with questions with no answers, as the last words of the compendium echoed in his head.  
  
 _Finally, a last warning to the brave who will try to stop this terrible, evil epidemic: remember that if you fail, it will not be just a matter of life or death.  
You will become like them, predator of the bodies and souls of those you love the most._

 

  
He already knew how things were going to go down, but when he got on the black, unmarked SUV and three of the men from the special team blindfolded him, Jensen's heart still skipped a beat.  
It felt too much like a real kidnapping for him to be comfortable with it.  
"We can't have you revealing the position of the camp" one of the men growled in his ear, while another chuckled and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like _this one's gonna be so much more fun than the other_.  
The SUV stopped abruptly, and rough hands grabbed him and forced him out.  
The air was crisp and smelled like pine and wet grass, and that's how Jensen understood that they were there.  
He swallowed, hard, but before he could say anything a heavy fist punched him in the stomach, making him bend over to try in protecting himself.  
It didn't help, though, and another punch hit him square on the jaw.  
He spitted blood, and panted heavily, as his lungs burned and complained about the assault.  
He could already feel the bruises starting to blossom on his body.  
"We gotta make it look real" one of the men stated, sounding like he was having way too much fun with it.  
"If you want them to feel sorry for you enough to take you in, we gotta tear you apart real good."  
As Jensen was on the ground, a couple of kicks hit his ribs in quick succession, before an arm lifted him up like he didn't weigh 186 lbs and threw him against a tree.  
He fell hard, flailing his arms unsuccessfully, and then curled up, hoping to somehow deflate the attack, but the men were apparently satisfied.  
"Give 'em hell, tiger" one of them said, roughly patting his shoulder, and then Jensen could hear the SUV's doors slamming closed, the engine revving and the tires screeching.  
He was alone, in woods he knew nothing about aside from plans and maps, tied up and blindfolded, waiting for a potential nest of vampires to come pick him up.  
Well, fuck. He so didn't see it coming when he woke up that morning.

 


	3. Second Sunset

  
Despite how uncomfortable the whole situation was, apparently the pills he was forced to take before he left the office combined with the beating and his own fatigue did their job, because Jensen dozed off.  
He woke up hours later, to some activity in the forest.  
"I'm pretty sure Chad said it was around here" a clear voice stated, followed by a few hurried steps that made the leaves crackle.  
"Yeah, and we all know about Chad and his almighty sense of direction..." another voice retorted, bitterly, and the soft _thump_ made Jensen think that the first guy had hit the second one.  
"Don't diss my best friend, man" First Guy whines, and Second Guy chuckled.  
"Whatever you say, sasquatch" he replied.  
The friendly banter stopped abruptly, just like the steps, and Jensen assumed they'd spotted him.  
"Dammit, look at him" First Guy hissed.  
"What did they do to him?"  
Second Guy made a noncommittal sound with his tongue.  
"Maybe we should have listened to Chris, man" he said "we don't know why this guy has been dropped out here, who he is and if he's here alone. We can't risk it, you know it."  
There was silence, after that, and Jensen sensed the doubt in both guys.  
If they didn't take him in, he was going to be in big, big trouble.  
He would also disappoint Misha and never find out the truth about what happened to his friends.  
So, he stuck up his chin and started mumbling as loud as he could in his gag, rolling around as he pulled at the ropes.  
That seemed to work, because First Guy snapped out of his reverie and rushed to help him.  
"Screw Chris he said, firmly "let me deal with him. I'm not leaving this guy here alone."  
Second guy sighed, loudly, but moved in to help the other, because Jensen could feel four hands working on him to get him untied.  
When the blindfold came off, he blinked a few times, not really surprised by discovering the sun had gone down already.  
If they really were vampires, they wouldn't have come out in daylight.  
As soon as his hands were free, Jensen pulled the gag down, snapping his jaw repeatedly, before taking his first look at his _saviors_ : they looked fairly normal, and not at all dangerous.  
Their clothes were consumed and torn, and they looked clean enough, despite the multiple stains that probably were way too ingrained in the fabric to come away when hand washed.  
They also looked young, way younger that Jensen expected.  
One of them was very tall, and looked quite ridiculous all hunched over Jensen, studying him with morbid curiosity.  
He had floppy brown hair and warm hazel eyes, and he was smiling tentatively at him.  
"You okay?" he inquired, brushing a bruise on Jensen's arm, and Jensen flinched.  
"I'm sorry!" the guy exclaimed, letting it go as if it burned "I didn't mean to hurt you!"  
He looked chagrined, so Jensen shook his head.  
"It's fine" he replied "I'm okay. Nothing's broken."  
 _I hope_ he thought grimly to himself.  
Once he was back at the office, he was going to have a very long talk with Misha about his men and their methods.  
Misha.  
A pang of longing hit him square in the chest, and Jensen took a shaky, deep breath.  
"He's so not okay" First Guy muttered, helping Jensen up.  
"If he can stand, we can walk him back to camp, so that-"  
"Whoa, whoa, we are not walking _anyone_ back to camp!" Second Guy exclaimed, looking at First Guy as if he had grown a second head.  
He was quite well built too, his dark skin gleaming with a thin layer of sweat, and his piercing black eyes were throwing daggers at Jensen.  
Jensen swallowed.  
"It's not necessary" he said, quickly "I'll be alright, I don't need anything."  
He pulled away from First Guy's hold and swayed on his feet for a moment, saved from falling on his ass only by First Guy's reflexes when he grabbed him again.  
"No, you're not alright, and I'm not leaving you here. That's final" First Guy stated, staring Second Guy down challengingly.  
"If I have to carry you, I will."  
Before Jensen could protest, Second Guy shook his head.  
"I wouldn't say another word, if I were you" he said.  
"He would carry you for real, and trust me, you don't want to give the guys more reasons to hate you."  
Jensen meant to ask who _the guys_ were, and why would they hate him, but First Guy was already wrapping Jensen's left arm around his neck and Second Guy was moving closer to do the same with his right, so Jensen decided to just let them.  
Besides, wasn't that his goal since the beginning?  
After a few steps, First Guy gasped.  
"Jeez, where are our manners? We didn't even introduce ourselves!" he exclaimed.  
"I'm Jared" he continued "and this is Malik."  
Jensen nodded in greeting.  
"Jensen."  
First Guy- _Jared_ grinned at him.  
"Glad to meet you, Jensen. Despite the circumstances" he added right after, winking at him.  
Malik rolled his eyes, muttering something that sounded like _freak_.  
They fell into a companionable silence then, until Malik sighed.  
"What are we gonna tell Chris?" he asked, and Jared shrugged.  
"That we found him in the woods and he followed us home" he answered, with a snort.  
"Then I'll ask him if we can keep him."  
Jensen wanted to protest he was not a lost puppy, but Malik was already glaring enough as it was.  
"I'm serious" he insisted "he's not gonna be happy about this."  
Jared groaned, shifting Jensen's weight against his side.  
"Yeah, I know" he said "but let me worry about that, okay? Just back me up."  
Malik seemed to be fighting an inner battle, but in the end he lowered his head in defeat, and Jared beamed at him.  
Jensen had the feeling that there wasn't much the guy didn't get, and with all the smiles, the gazes and the dimples, he kind of got why.

 

  
The first time Jensen met Chris face to face, he immediately understood why he was the head of the coven.  
He was shorter than both Jared and Malik, and even shorter than Chad, Jared's infamous best friend, but he still had a stance and a presence that commanded respect and obedience.  
His eyes were clear and intense and his strong jaw made him look older than the rest.  
He had long, brown hair and clothes that probably used to be very colorful before time and usage made the colors fade.  
What was clear is that he embodied perfectly the ideal of a gipsy, which was what they were going for.  
And he hated Jensen.  
"Fuck no" he snarled, and if looks could kill Jensen would have been a heap of ashes the first second Chris' gaze stopped on him.  
"Chris, listen..." Malik tried, but Chris lifted a hand.  
"He's not staying, I don't give a shit about anything. He's not staying."  
Jensen took a step back, but Jared stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.  
"I'm not saying it's gonna be permanent" he said, calmly, but with a dark undertone that made Jensen's hair stand up.  
"But he's hurt, and we really can't leave him out on his own. If anything happened to him while we could have protected him I would never be able to forgive myself."  
He lifted his eyes and stared straight at Chris' eyes.  
"Would you?" he inquired.  
Jensen could see the moment the fight left Chris: his shoulders sagged and a sparkle of something akin to guilt flashed in his eyes, but was gone too fast for Jensen to identify properly.  
"Whatever" Chris growled, turning his back at them.  
"A week. Not a single day more."  
Jared grinned at Jensen and slapped his back.  
"You're gonna be fine, man" he murmured, before he trotted after Chris.  
Jensen blinked, then turned when he heard someone clearing his throat.  
Chad was studying him, his arms crossed on his chest and an eyebrow arched.  
"So it's you" he said, with a smirk.  
"You do realize that Jared just publicly defied the boss' direct order, and he could get in great trouble because of it?"  
Jensen bit his lower lip and fidgeted.  
"I do, but..." he trailed off, shifting uncomfortably, not sure of how to fix it, but in the end Chad just shook his head.  
"I hope this won't come back biting Jay in the ass, that's all" he stated, before leaving.  
Jensen pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned, suddenly so very tired that the ache of his muscles and bones turned to be almost intolerable.  
His gaze shifted, trying to find a place to lay down and rest, but right then Jared appeared from behind a tent.  
"Jen!" he exclaimed, with a smile, when he saw Jensen standing there, looking lost.  
"Come with me" he added, grabbing his arm and pulling him along, towards an old building that looked like a stable.  
"You can sleep here" Jared said, showing him inside: there were piles of hay held together by pristine sheets, some blankets and a couple of oil lamps.  
"If you don't mind sharing, that is" he added, pointing at the two piles.  
"I could sleep outside, if you-"  
"No!" Jensen interrupted him, quickly.  
The guy had done enough already, and Jensen was not going to let him sleep on a curb on top of everything.  
And he needed to get as close to him and his friends as he could, to investigate and get samples of their tissues, and it was going to be easier if he had been sharing.  
"I mean, this is your room. I'd never kick you out" he muttered, feeling uncomfortable under Jared's big eyes studying him.  
"Okay, then" Jared said, and his voice sounded softer than before.  
Jensen swallowed.  
"Okay" he echoed, sitting down on the closest pile of hay.  
He intended to start asking questions, but as soon as his head touched the pillow he was out for the count, the events of the last couple of days finally catching up with him.

 

  
"Yeah, I'm fine. All is good, and no one suspects anything."  
A few days had gone by, and Jensen had finally got the necessary privacy to call Misha instead of just texting him his location or a few data he managed to recopile.  
He was very confused, though; the coven didn't act as he expected it to.  
Yes, they did spend almost the whole day indoors, and they did hide from people, but...they had welcomed Jensen in their small community easily, and acted nothing but friendly with him.  
Especially Jared.  
Jensen took a moment to recollect his thoughts before he kept talking.  
If he might have had doubts on any of the other members of the coven, he couldn't believe that Jared was a cold blooded killer.  
There was too much kindness in his eyes, too much warmth in his smile for Jensen to consider him anything but a young man who had to grow up too fast.  
He had tried more than once to find out what had happened to him, why was he moving around the country with a group of outcasts, but with no luck.  
As soon as the topic of his past was approached, Jared retreated and closed in on himself, so Jensen just stopped pushing.  
What made him feel uneasy was that at some point he stopped trying to find out because it was his job and started being genuinely curious.  
There seemed to be something scaring them, and that was why they were on the run, but he hadn't been able to discover much more, especially with Chris keeping tabs on him like Jensen was some sort of criminal under special surveillance.  
And Jensen knew that he was in fact right at being suspicious, since Jensen was lying to them, so he couldn't really get too pissed at Chris' attitude.  
It didn't annoy him any less, though.  
"...you understand, right? Jensen? Jensen, you still there?"  
Misha's voice was getting frantic, and that was apparently enough to snap Jensen out of his reverie.  
"I just don't think it's them, Misha" Jensen muttered.  
"They are definitely hiding something but...they're good people."  
Misha snorted bitterly.  
"Tell it to Mike, and Steve" he retorted, and Jensen flinched.  
After a moment of silence, Misha sighed.  
"I'm sorry, Jen, I didn't mean to accuse you or anything" he said, apologetically.  
"Listen, just get the genetic sample and then come back, okay? One way or another, that's the only way to know for sure."  
Jensen bit his lower lip.  
"It's not that easy" he protested "especially, not now that-"  
A sudden commotion outside the barn put Jensen in alert, so he just rushed told Misha he'd have called him back once everyone was asleep and hung up, before rushing out.

 

  
It was dark, outside, and Jensen could see Chris and Malik approach the clear, stumbling, as they tried to keep a shaky, panting Jared upright.  
Chad and the other member of the coven, Jason, followed closely, with a couple of torches.  
Even at the weak light coming from the bonfire in the center of the camp, it was clear that Jared was not all there.  
His usually bronzed skin looked unnaturally pale, and the splotches of red on his cheeks were so out of place that Jensen was out of the barn and next to them before his brain could actually process the thought.  
"Stay back!" Chris snapped.  
"Don't you dare coming any closer."  
Jensen gasped, surprised, but obeyed.  
Chris' jaw was clenched, and there was so much fury on his face that Jensen decided it was going to be better not to provoke him.  
The five men kept walking towards the barn, and Jensen went after them, but before he could enter Malik blocked his way.  
"You're sleeping somewhere else, tonight" he said, shrugging.  
"Jared needs to rest, and-"  
"No" a weak voice interrupted him from inside the barn.  
"Jen?"  
Jensen ignored Malik glare and stepped inside.  
Jared was lying on both cots, his shirt ripped open and four deep, purple gashes across his abdomen.  
There was so much blood that Jensen felt dizzy, as flashes of Mike's death scene flooded his brain.  
He had to lean against the wall for leverage.  
"It's just a scratch, man" Jared said, hoarsely, with a tired smile.  
"Come here."  
"Jared, I really don't think it's a good idea" Chris started, but Jared squeezed his arm.  
"I think I can't sleep if Jensen is not sleeping next to me" he replied, the same resolute expression that convinced Chris to let Jensen stay.  
This time Chris seemed ready to fight him on it, though.  
"It's too dangerous" he stated, dabbing at the cuts with a wet cloth maybe a tad too hard if Jared's wince was anything to go by.  
"No, it's not" Jared retorted.  
"Look, it's not bleeding anymore."  
It was true: as the wet cloth passed, it scrubbed away the crimson trails leaving just slightly pink skin.  
Chris finished tending at Jared's wounds with meticulous precision, and he didn't say another word until the gauze had been placed and secured on the affected zone and Jared's torso was spotless.  
"Fine, have it your way" he growled, standing up, and his knees cracked.  
"But we'll all be right outside if you need us."  
With one last glare at Jensen, he left, Malik and Jason trailing after him.  
Chad had probably been left outside to survey the area.  
"Come here" Jared repeated, a little softer, and Jensen approached the coat.  
"What happened?" Jensen asked, his voice still laced with worry.  
"Mountain lion" Jared replied, making a face.  
"He went for Chris and would have probably killed him if I hadn't stepped in front of it."  
"What were you doing in the woods?" Jensen couldn't stop himself from asking.  
For a moment, it looked like Jared would refuse to answer as usual, but he was apparently too tired to control himself.  
"We were hunting" he said, laying his head back on the pillow and closing his eyes.  
"As you might have noticed, we're not big fans of people, so there's no other way we could get food."  
That was another weird thing: the coven ate meat.  
Of course, Jensen didn't expect them to feed off a human or toast with glasses of blood in front of him, but then again what he knew about vampires said they couldn't eat anything but blood.  
"We were a little out of practice, haven't hunted in months" Jared suddenly said.  
"There was this guy, bringing us food from the nearest town. We were all very fond of him-especially Chris."  
The way Jared said it gave Jensen a pretty good idea of what was between Chris and the guy, together with a sudden suspicion.  
Steve was undercover in town.  
"What happened to him?" he asked tentatively.  
Jared's eyes turned sad.  
"We don't know, he just disappeared" he answered, and Jensen knew right away.  
"Chris looks for him every night" Jared added, something akin to admiration in his voice, and Jensen felt the same way.  
Chris was rude and harsh, but when he cared, apparently, he cared all the way.  
Jensen wished for a moment he could be able to do the same.  
"Hey" Jared's voice, low and impossibly close made Jensen jump.  
He didn't realize Jared had moved so fast.  
"Stop thinking" he murmured.  
His breath was coming out in quick pants, and his still naked chest was heaving, but he was there, his arm half extended towards Jensen's face, as he looked at him doubtful and maybe a little hopeful.  
Jensen knew that this was the last thing he was supposed to do, he knew it was most likely the worst possible idea he ever had, but Jared was hurt and needed him, and dammit, no one had ever needed Jensen before, not really.  
He leaned in, until Jared's palm cupped his cheek, and he let out a deep sigh at the contact.  
Jared's smile went wider and, before Jensen could even think about stopping him, they were kissing.  
It was slow and tentative, Jared not taking the initiative for fear of scaring Jensen away and Jensen trying to control himself to avoid hurting Jared any further, so there was no electricity, no earth shaking, no stars or rainbows.  
It was just their lips meeting, exploring and deciding they liked it.  
When Jared let out a small whimper that was not exactly of pleasure, Jensen snapped back abruptly, discovering he was laying on top of Jared and having no idea of how they got there.  
"Don't" Jared whined, grabbing Jensen's biceps and trying weakly to pull him back down, but Jensen shook his head.  
"You're hurt" he stated, trying to will down his growing erection.  
"We can't."  
"But I want to" Jared protested, with a pout that had no right of being that cute.  
"Let's just sleep tonight, Jay" Jensen said, as he tucked a lock of Jared's hair behind his ear.  
"We'll have time for this, whatever it is, when you're better."  
Jared looked like he was about to protest some more, but Jensen took advantage of his open mouth to push his tongue inside and tangle it with Jared's, kissing him breathless until he was completely pliant in Jensen's arms.  
"Sleep" he said again, pulling back, and Jared licked his lips, offering him a tiny nod as he turned on his side, and he was snoring softly before Jensen could get another word in.  
He couldn't stop the affectionate smile that dawned on his face, and he was surprised to realize how much he already cared for Jared, how much fear had taken hold of his heart when he had seen him in pain.  
Something was happening, and he didn't understand it, but he still felt like it was good for him, somehow.  
There was still the tiny teeny problem of Jared maybe being a vampire, though.  
Jensen stared at the bloodied clothes, the wet cloth, and the discarded gauze and realized that he was never going to get a better chance to recollect genetic material.  
Then, Jared curled on himself, shivering, and as he covered his naked shoulders with the blanket, Jensen knew he was not going to be able to do it.  
It didn't matter what Jared and his people were: they looked after Jensen as if he had been one of their own, they had loved Steve, and they risked their lives for each other.  
They were not evil, and that's all Jensen cared about.  
He took out his phone and marked the only number he had programmed.  
"I retire, Misha" he muttered.  
"They're not what you think they are. My mission's over."  
"What?!" Misha's voice sounded so high pitched that Jensen had to turn the phone away.  
"You heard me. I'm done with this. I discovered all I had to discover, and I'm not gonna betray their trust."  
"Jensen, please, you're not thinking clearly! Did they do anything to you? Brainwashed you?"  
Jensen snorted.  
"Misha, don't be melodramatic. No one has done anything to me."  
 _Yet_ , he couldn't help but think with a bit of excitement sparkling in his belly.  
"They must have, or you wouldn't be saying what you're saying! They killed Steve, they killed Mike and-"  
"Actually, they _loved_ Steve. I just know they couldn't have hurt him."  
Misha groaned, and Jensen imagined him throwing his hands up in frustration.  
"What about me, then?" he asked, tentatively.  
"I thought you...I mean, I thought there was something between us."  
Jensen bit his lower lip.  
He had dreamed about the moment Misha would declare his feelings for him so many times that he barely missed it.  
"There was" he replied when his brain finally caught up "there is. It's just...what about your wife?"  
Misha paused for a long moment.  
"She left" he revealed, in the end "almost a year ago, but our marriage was over way before that. I just didn't know how to tell you. And I wasn't sure you'd want me, anyway."  
Jensen's jaw dropped.  
"You mean...we could have been together for a year?"  
"I guess you might look at it that way, yeah" Misha replied, chuckling nervously.  
"Son of a bitch" Jensen muttered to himself.  
"That's not all there is" Misha added.  
"If you bring back the genetic material, the Organization will remain open and you will be promoted. We could keep working together, side by side."  
Jensen felt suddenly like he was drowning.  
Everything he had ever wanted was suddenly within his reach: Misha as a partner, Misha as a lover, professional recognition...  
Then why wasn't he jumping at the opportunity?  
"So what, I grab a piece of bloody gauze and my whole future starts?" he asked.  
"I get you and a fucking awesome job, just like that?"  
"Exactly" Misha confirmed "just like that, Jen. So, please?"  
Jensen closed his eyes and tried to breathe, because it was too much and too soon.  
A minute before he had Jared in his arms, trustful and beautiful and now everything had been turned upside down.  
He had the hardest decision in his life to make, and all he wanted was for someone else to make it for him.  
"I-I don't know" he stuttered "I just don't know. Let me think about it."  
He hung up, but before he could put the phone back in his pocket, a cold, sharp voice froze him on the spot.  
"What's there to think about, Jen? A piece of bloody gauze in exchange for everything you ever wanted, you can't possibly have doubts about this one."  
Jensen turned, slowly, finding Jared sitting up, shaking, but this time in rage.  
His eyes were dark and accusing, and his fists were gripping at the blanket so hard that his knuckles had gone white.  
"No, Jay, it's not..."  
Jensen shifted his weight from one foot to the other.  
"So help me God, Jensen, if you tell me _it's not what you think_ I'll beat you to a pulp" Jared hissed, and Jensen took a step back, suddenly afraid.  
That was not the Jared he knew.  
"Jay" he tried again, but Jared growled-he actually _growled_.  
"My name's _Jared_. And there's only one thing you need to tell me."  
His gaze shifted, as if to find the strength before it settled on Jensen again.  
"Have you been lying to me all along?"  
And Jensen could have denied it; he could have said that Jared knew him better than anyone else, despite everything.  
He could see in Jared's eyes that all Jared wanted was to hear those words, which is why he simply lowered his head and nodded.  
It might have been more complicated than that, but nothing was ever going to change the fact that he had lied to Jared, and deserved whatever Jared was going to throw at him, including Chris' fury.  
Jared looked down at his hands.  
"Leave" he ordered.  
"Leave now, before anyone else wakes up, and don't look back."  
Jared's teeth were clenched, and there was so much hurt and betrayal flickering in his expression that it hurt to look at him.  
"I don't want you anywhere around us ever again, or you'll be sorry."  
As Jensen ran out of the clear as fast as he could, his heart heavy as a ton of bricks, he didn't doubt for a second that Jared meant every single word.  
And knowing he deserved it didn't make it hurt any less.

 


	4. Third Sunset

  
Going back to his usual life proved to be way harder than Jensen expected.  
Maybe it was because he was not the same person anymore, or maybe it was because now the seed of doubt had been planted in his head and his organized, ordinary life was not good enough for him no more.  
Be as it may, Jensen was struggling with his tasks, even the basic ones, and his colleagues started avoiding him even more than they used to.  
Jensen had always been quiet, uncharacteristically so, and calm, but since he had come back he tended to snap at people for no reason, glaring at his desk and computer as if they were guilty of crimes against humanity.  
Truth was that the one he wanted to glare and snap at was himself, for letting Misha and his friends down, for hurting Jared, for giving Chris the chance to say _I told you so_.  
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.  
Despite all the drama and the resounding failure that his mission had turned out to be, the Organization hadn't been closed yet, even if it looked like it was due mainly to Misha's willpower only.  
Speaking about Misha...  
There had been longing gazes, fleeting touches and stuttered greetings, but nothing more.  
They were tiptoeing around each other, and even if Jensen kept telling to himself that it was Misha who had to take the first step, but he was in fact confused as hell and scared shitless.  
He had wanted Misha for so long that he had forgotten how not to, but he had also spent so much time trying to convince himself he'd never have him that now it was hard for him to believe otherwise.  
And then there was Jared.  
Jared, who was probably not human and most likely something evil, Jared who hated him and who Jensen was probably not going to see ever again.  
God, Jensen was never going to forget Jared's expression that night.  
He groaned and rubbed his forehead, as he got to his desk after lunch, feeling a killing headache settle behind his eye sockets.  
Intending on getting a painkiller from the drawer, he stopped abruptly, surprised by a cardboard box waiting for him on the desk.  
He frowned, checking the sender: it had not been filled in.  
"That's weird" he muttered to himself, and that's when his phone rang.  
He put down the box, and tried not to squeak when he saw Misha's name on the display.  
"Hey, Misha" he greeted him.  
"I think we've waited enough" Misha stated, without preamble.  
"I'd like to take you out-if you're still interested, that is. Do you want to?"  
 _I'm not sure_ , Jensen wanted to say.  
 _I don't know what I want._  
Instead, he just swallowed and agreed, saying he had to go home and change first.  
"And I gotta leave something there, too" he added, thoughtfully, staring at the box.  
He didn't know why, but he sensed it might be important.

 

  
"I'm boring you, am I."  
Jensen blinked, focusing back on Misha, and blushed realizing he had been zoning out and he had no idea what Misha was talking about.  
"No, you're not, and I'm sorry" he replied, gulping down the content of his glass.  
"What were you saying?"  
Misha shook his head, and curled his fingers around Jensen's wrist.  
"It doesn't matter" he replied.  
"What matters is that we're finally here, together."  
Jensen made a move to fill in his glass again and Misha stopped him, chuckling.  
"Slow down, Jen, or you'll get drunk way too fast and you won't be able to have any fun" he said, almost purring.  
The tone alone should have made Jensen's knees go weak, but it made him feel sick, instead.  
He took a deep breath.  
"Misha, can we go? It's not like I'm not enjoying this, but...I don't feel too good."  
Misha's expression turned from flirty to concerned in a second.  
"Sure thing" he said, motioning for the waiter to bring their check.  
"You wanna go to my place, or..." Misha trailed off once he had insisted to pay for the dinner.  
Jensen shrugged apologetically.  
"I'd prefer if you could just take me home" he said "if that's okay with you."  
Misha looked taken aback, but nodded, and Jensen was aware that he was acting like the biggest cocktease in the history of ever, but he really wanted his bed.  
The feeling in the pit of his stomach didn't show signs of receding, and all Jensen needed was a bath and a long night of sleep.

 

  
The drive was uneventful, and after attempting to start a conversation a couple of times, Misha desisted, apparently accepting that Jensen was not all there.  
After parking in front of the entrance of his condo, though, he leaned in, and it was clear what he was aiming for.  
Jensen didn't have it in him to deny Misha that, too, so he just closed his eyes and let him be kissed.  
Misha's mouth was different from Jared's, less soft, less warm and less tender, and the way his tongue pried Jensen's lips open had nothing on Jared's almost shy one.  
When Misha's fingers tried to make their way under Jensen's shirt to touch skin, the alarm bells going off in his head turned into a storm of deafening sound, and Jensen pulled away.  
"I can't" he panted "I can't do this."  
Misha's eyes were wide and confused.  
"But...I thought you wanted this" he objected, and Jensen lowered his gaze.  
"I did" he said "for such a long time, Misha. I don't even remember why I fell for you anymore, and now I'm-it's complicated."  
He couldn't say he was in love with Jared: he barely knew him, after all, but then again, he didn't really know Misha, either, and right then Jared was all he could think about.  
Misha stared at Jensen for a long instant, as if he was trying to read him, and in the end he sighed and moved back into the driver's seat.  
"Wow" he muttered "this is a really surprising twist."  
"I'm so sorry, Misha, really, I am" Jensen stuttered "I just..."  
Misha offered him a small smile.  
"Hey, it's okay, man. Thanks for being honest. Let's get you home and in bed now, okay?"  
Jensen nodded, and climbed out of the car, with Misha in tow.  
He wanted to tell him that it was not necessary, that he could have reached his apartment on his own, but then he noticed the front door.  
It had been forced open and ripped off its hinges.  
Jensen's blood went cold, and he could feel Misha tense right behind him.  
"Someone was here" he hissed, and he was not surprised to find that there was no electricity.  
His living room looked like a nuclear zone.  
Nothing had been spared: his books torn and ripped apart, the pillows from his couch open and all the feathers lying on the floor amongst cracked mugs and shreds of broken glass.  
"They were looking for something" Misha murmured.  
"But what? Check if there's anything missing."  
Jensen's brain was working full speed, desperately trying to understand, and finally he got it.  
"The box" he muttered "they were looking for the cardboard box!"  
Misha blinked.  
"What?"  
"I received a box this morning, but didn't open it yet" Jensen explained, grabbing his miraculously intact jacket from the hanger and running down the stairs.  
"Whoever came here, must have thought I brought it home, but it's still at the office."  
Misha ran after him.  
"Let's go, then, I'll drive you."  
Jensen shook his head.  
"It might be dangerous, Misha. I don't want you to be involved in this."  
Misha grabbed his arm.  
"Even if you rejected me, we're still in it together" he stated, resolutely, as he unlocked his car door and Jensen smiled, gratefully.  
It felt good knowing he could still count on Misha, even if they were never going to be a couple.

 

  
The Organization was pitch black when they got there.  
Misha turned on the generator, and they ran through the corridors, trying to make less noise as possible, until they reached Jensen's desk: everything was upside down, the drawers on the floor and all his papers scattered over the desk.  
"Fuck" Jensen growled, realizing that he'd have to do the work of the last couple of weeks all over again, thanks to that stunt.  
Then, they heard voices in Misha's office and, when they threw a glance in that direction, they saw shadows moving inside.  
"Follow me, down to the lab" Jensen hissed, and Misha nodded, following him down the stairs.  
The box was still were Jensen left it, in a secret compartment under Mike's computer.  
"Well, what are you waiting for? Open it, before they find us" Misha urged him, as he kept a nervous eye on the door.  
They had closed it, but even with the chair they'd put under the knob it was not like it was going to hold long if the goons had realized they were there.  
Jensen bit his lower lip and ripped the lid open: inside, there was a satellite phone and a small piece of paper.  
 _Trust no one_ , it said.  
 _RememberMN._  
He frowned, as he turned it on, and when the display asked for a password, he keyed in the word on the paper.  
The phone accepted it and blipped, showing the picture of a man Jensen knew on the screen.  
Chris.  
"This is Steve's phone" he murmured.  
Who could have had Steve's phone? And why send it to Jensen?  
He checked the memory and found two recorded phonecalls.  
The undercover agents were provided by the Organization with phones that had that special quality, so that they were going to be able to inform of their position even if they couldn't manage to connect.  
Jensen pressed the _listening_ button and, as he expected, the recorded voice informed him that the message was recorded on the 7th of September, at 3.30 AM.  
"We had already lost him by then" Jensen said, confused, as Steve's voice came on the speaker.  
  
 _"This is all wrong. You gotta check it all again, man. They can't be what we're looking for, and I'm not going to massacre a whole community just because of some data that are flawed at best! Please, I-"  
"Steve, you're not thinking clearly! Did they do anything to you? Brainwashed you? They must have, or you wouldn't be saying what you're saying."  
"I can't do it, not if I'm not sure. Just tell me you're sure. If you're not, maybe I could stay a while longer?"  
"We don’t have much more time, Steve! You know how much is at stake, here. If you bring back the genetic material, the Organization will remain open and you will be promoted. Think about all the money and recognition you'll get."  
"I've been checking on them very closely for the last few months, and they've never hunted or killed. They are only trying to stay off the radar, and yes, that does usually indicate they're hiding something, and still...what if they're not plotting but protecting, instead? What if there's more than what meets the eye, here? I've got this weird feeling that they-shit, I think someone's following me. I'll call later and we will discuss this. Meanwhile, no one's dying tonight. Not on my watch."_  
  
Jensen's stomach clenched.  
Those words...the words Misha had said to Steve were the same he had used with Jensen himself.  
He wanted to ask for an explanation, to understand why if after Mike had lost Steve on the grid Misha was talking to him he didn't say anything, and why he tried to convince them both that Jared and the others were evil when Steve like Jensen seemed to think they were innocent-  
Right then, the second message came up.  
  
 _"Jensen, it's Chris. You're a lying bastard and I'm so going to consume my boot on your ass when I see you next, but you gotta listen to me. There's someone out there who's not who you think he is. His men called him **The Puppeteer**. He killed Steve, and I just found his-I found the phone, and thought it might help you. I’m pretty sure he’s the last person who talked to him. Be careful, ya hear me? Don't you dare dying before I can punch you in the face.”_  
  
Jensen stood there, frozen on the spot, and it wasn't until he heard a gun getting cocked behind him that he snapped out of his reverie.  
"That's mine" Misha said, in his usual, warm voice.  
Jensen turned slowly, and found his boss, the man he considered his soulmate for years, with a gun set on him.  
"Give me the phone, Jensen" Misha insisted, a weird, metallic light in his eyes.  
Jensen obeyed, putting it on the table, and Misha pocketed it.  
"I knew you were gonna be trouble, but I thought a good fuck and a few sweet words would have kept you submissive and controlled enough for you not to be a menace. Apparently, I had underestimated you."  
Jensen felt like crying, but he clenched his fists and looked straight at Misha without blinking instead.  
"You killed them both" he growled.  
"Why?"  
Misha waved a hand dismissively.  
"Steve knew too much" he explained "he was about to discover everything, and I couldn't let him. There was too much at stake."  
He grinned.  
"Mike saw one of my men in the woods around the time of Steve's disappearance."  
"I don't understand" Jensen said.  
"All this for a coven of 5 possible vampires? Why is it so important to you?"  
Misha blinked.  
"You didn't get it yet? Seriously, you're supposed to be the smart one, here."  
Before Jensen could ask what the hell Misha was talking about, the door slammed open, and a group of men dressed in black swarmed in, pushing two tied up men in front of them.  
Jensen's eyes went wide.  
"Jared?” he stuttered.   
“Chris?"  
Jared offered him a small, bitter smile.  
"Hey, Jen. Fancy seeing you here."

 

  
Chris' fingers were trembling, as he pushed Steve's hair away from his battered face.  
He already knew he was dead, he had known for days, but seeing him like that...  
He bit his lower lip so hard that he drew blood, trying to get a grip on his emotions, and that's when he saw the phone laying on the grass.  
It didn't take much for him to put two and two together; from what Jared told him, Jensen was checking on them for the same reason Steve was.  
Chris had known about Steve's real job since the first week after they'd met, but he had also been able to read in his eyes that Steve had never lied to him about how he felt, and that was all Chris really cared about.  
And now Steve was gone.  
If Jensen was undergoing the same treatment Steve had, he was in danger too, and Chris was not going to let anyone else die on his account.  
He was pretty sure Jared was going to agree with him on this one.

 

  
"So we came to check on you, just in case, and saw _them_ leave your building" Chris finished, pointing at the goons in black.  
"You could have-you shouldn't have come" Jensen muttered, worried like hell for Jared's safety.  
Which really made no sense, with him being an immortal creature, but still.  
"I had to see the face of the man who killed the fucking love of my life and cursed me to an eternity alone" Chris hissed, as his eyes threw daggers at Misha, and Jensen blinked, confused.  
"Why didn't you turn him, if you wanted him with you forever?" he inquired.  
"I'm pretty sure that if Steve was as gone for you as I think he was, he wouldn't have opposed much resistance."  
Chris stared at him as if he had grown a second head.  
"Turn?"  
"Into a vampire" Jensen added "like you."  
Misha's hoarse laughter caught him by surprise.  
"You're so stupid" he said, amongst chuckles.  
"They're not vampires, Jensen, they never were."  
Jensen's gaze shifted from Chris to Jared, then back to Misha.  
"But he said..."  
"They're immortal" Misha clarified "but not vampires. They're a secret coven protecting the one with the gift. Each generation has one."  
Chris looked at Misha.  
"How do you know that?" he inquired, and Misha's grin got wider.  
"I've been around a while, thanks to the previous generations" he said, and Jared got pale.  
"So it was you" he snapped "you killed all my brothers?"  
Misha shrugged.  
"Hey, why should I have let all that precious blood go to waste?"  
Jensen's confusion increased, until apparently Misha took pity on him.  
“It’s actually less complicated than it seems” he started, in an annoyed tone.  
“Each generation, a boy is born with a special blood that grants him and the coven protecting him powers and immortality. The only way to kill him is to bleed him dry, or to get his blood to mix with someone else's.”  
Suddenly Chris' attitude when Jared got back to the barn with the bleeding wounds made sense.  
"The skillful motherfuckers have become very good at hiding their tracks, though, so it has taken me longer than usual to track this coven-it's the last one on Earth, definitely worth a couple of deaths, don’t you think?"  
Jensen saw Jared's eyes go sad, and knew instantly how guilty he felt, knowing that his gift caused for so many people to die.  
"Only problem is that I still don't know which one of these gentlemen is the one I need, and if I mix my blood with the wrong one I'll die, so I can't risk it" Misha added, his calculating gaze going from Chris to Jared.  
Chris just stared him down, fearless, but Jared's eyes were focused on Jensen, and despite the betrayal which still shone through, there was so much love and need in those hazel irises that Jensen felt suddenly stronger than ever.  
"I'm sorry, Jay" he said, trying to ignore their audience and concentrating on saying all he had to say, because that might have been his last chance.  
"I shouldn't have lied to you. But you oughta know that I'd have never done anything to hurt you or the guys. Never."  
For a moment he feared Jared was going to ignore him, but then Jared sighed, and his stance relaxed slightly.  
"You did hurt me" he murmured "you really did."  
Jensen nodded.  
"I know. Can you forgive me though? Someday?"  
Before Jared could reply, a cold hand grabbed Jensen’s hair, pulling his head back and forcing him to arch his neck, painfully, as the gun was pressed hard between his shoulder blades.  
"So this is why you don't want me anymore" Misha hissed in Jensen's ear "you fell for the immortal stud. And he fell for you, apparently."  
He smirked at Jared, cocking the gun again, as Jensen froze.  
"This is what's gonna happen, here" he said.  
"Either you tell me which one of you is the golden egg or I kill Mr. Ackles here so that you both have to be alone for all eternity."  
Jared went pale, and Jensen started sweating, feeling the cold metal of the gun pressed so hard against his skin that he knew he was going to be bruised tomorrow.  
If he was still going to be alive tomorrow, that was.

 

  
It all happened too fast.  
Noise could be heard from outside the room, and both Chad and Jason busted in, attacking the goons that were still holding Chris and Jared.  
The goons were more, but they were immortals with powers, so it really was no contest.  
As Jared and Chris got freed from the ropes, Misha yelled “I’m still gonna kill him if you don’t give yourself up to me!”  
Jensen didn’t even knew he had it in him, but he saw Jared open his mouth and just knew he was about to surrender himself, and really, Jensen was not going to watch anyone else he cared about die, ever again.  
He turned in Misha’s hold and hit his stomach as hard as he could, and taking advantage of Misha’s surprise and the way he had to curl on himself to absorb the hit, Jensen broke free.  
He took a couple of hurried steps towards Jared, who was already moving towards him with his forehead frowned in worry, but never managed to reach him.  
Suddenly, he felt pain, sharp and burning him through, like white hot fire; then Jared started running at him, and that was the last thing he saw before slumping on the lab’s floor.

 

  
Jared shouted long and raw, like a wounded animal, and sprinted forward, managing to grab Jensen’s body before he could hit his head, but there was no missing the blood seeping through the gun wound in the middle of his back.  
“No” Jared murmured, so broken that Chris’ heart clenched.  
He remembered how bad it hurt feeling Steve’s life slipping through his fingers.  
He had heard tales of soulmates and inexplicable bonds, red threads and deep connections, but he hadn’t believe a word until he met Steve.  
A single touch, and he knew.  
If Jensen was Jared’s, then…  
Misha hadn’t destroyed only his life, but Jared’s too, and if Chris hadn’t always been worthy of the role he had been given, Jared was the best person he had ever met, and he had always been honored and proud to serve and protect him.  
Chris narrowed his eyes and threw himself at Misha, who somehow didn’t see it coming, and attacked him using all he knew on how Jared could be hurt, kicking, biting and slashing until Jason’s arms grabbed him and forced him away from the battered and lifeless body of the man who torn his only happiness from him forever.  
“Stop it” Jason murmured in his ear, pulling him back.  
“Steve wouldn’t have wanted this.”  
As it came, the rage left him, when Chris thought about Steve warm gaze and the way he shook his head affectionately every time Chris’ rebel attitude surfaced.  
Chris finally looked up and saw the goons on the floor, some of them with their neck bent at an unnatural angle, others drowning in their own blood.  
He didn’t spare another glance for Misha.  
Then, his eyes stopped on Jared, who was kneeling on the floor, cradling Jensen’s head in his lap and rocking slowly.  
“Jay…” he called out, but Jared didn’t seem to hear him.  
Chris moved closer, squeezing Jared’s shoulder, and felt it stiff and shaky.  
“He’s gone, Jay” he said, hating how weak his voice sounded, but Jared just shook his head violently.  
“He can’t be” he hissed, his eyes closed “I had just found him. He didn’t even know yet.”  
Chris looked at Jason and Chad, searching for the right words to say, but they seemed at a loss like he was.  
He swallowed.  
“We gotta go” he tried then “the police is probably about to come and when they get here they can’t find us.”  
Jared’s fingers tangled in Jensen’s blonde hair, now smeared with blood.  
“I’m not going anywhere without him” he murmured.  
Chris shrugged helplessly, and sat next to him, without another word.

  


  
After what felt like an eternity, Jared lifted his head.  
“I’m giving it to him” he stated, firmly, and Chris’ eyes went wide.  
He didn’t have to turn to know Jason and Chad were equally shocked.  
“Wha-no! Jay, you can’t-you’re the chosen one! We don’t know if Jensen can even contain the power!” he protested.  
Jared stared at him, his jaw clenched and his expression resolute.  
“I don’t care” he replied.  
“If he can’t, he’ll lose it, but he’ll still be alive.”  
Chris felt helpless.  
Of course it was Jared’s decision to make and no one else’s, but-  
“I didn’t want to lose you” he muttered, and Jared’s expression softened.  
“And I don’t want to lose you” he said.  
“But I can’t live an eternity without him. You understand that, don’t you?”  
Chris could only nod.  
He stood up, unable to look at his mates as he commanded for them to get Jensen ready.  
He couldn't fathom losing both his soulmate and his best friend…that had been a _very_ bad week for him.

 

  
Jensen was lying on the chipped floor of the lab, his body quickly going cold under their hands as the guys arranged him in the middle of a circle made of candles and herbs.  
There was a heavy, heady smell of dried flowers, and if his stomach hadn't been tied up in knots with grief and fear, Jared would have probably been sick.  
Grief because he was never going to see Jensen again, they'd never have the chance of really knowing each other and fall in love as they were intended to.  
Fear because what if it didn't work?  
Every chosen one knew the ritual by heart, but as far as Jared was concerned no one ever attempted to actually practise it.  
Maybe they should have asked Misha before they killed him, if he got the powers and immortality from the other chosen ones, he was bound to know how to transfer them.  
Just the thought of the man who stole his only chance at real happiness made Jared's sacred blood boil all over again, though, so he was pretty sure that if Misha hadn't been dead, he'd have killed him then and there, which would have made the whole thing pointless, so he just shrugged and dismissed the thought.  
He knew the ritual, he wanted for it to work with all his aching heart, and it had to be enough.  
It had to.  
He kneeled next to Jensen's unmoving body, then straddled his hips and grabbed the ceremonial knife.  
Jensen's torso was bared, the gun hole cleaned and slightly puffy where the bullet had cut through.  
Chad and Jason had taken care of it and removed the bullet, which was in a bowl next to them, still stained in red.  
There was a trickle of blood still dripping steadily from the wound, but it was getting thinner, which meant Jared didn't have much time.  
"I trust you to take care of him and protect him for as long as it will be necessary, just as you did with me" he said softly, and didn't need to look at his mates to know they were nodding.  
One swift movement of the knife, and his right wrist was sliced open, as his dark, rich life essence started flowing down his arm to gather at the elbow.  
When the first drop fell down, straight in the bullet hole, Jared started chanting softly the old French incantation.  
  
 _Prend mon sang, je te le donne, prend-le et que Dieu me pardonne; une meilleure vie il te donnera, et par magie l'un a l'autre vous enchaînera._  
  
Jared waited until his arm was covered in blood before leaning in, kissing Jensen's back right above the bullet homeand pressing the open cut flushed against Jensen's open wound.  
A deep shiver ran through Jensen's body, and the hole started to recede; Jared closed his eyes, serenely, his forehead against Jensen's neck, ready for the endless slumber to come down and claim him, now that he knew Jensen would be okay.  
he heard Chris voice calling his name, far and anguished, and he'd have liked to reassure him but it was too late for that.

 

  
Jensen's eyelashes fluttered before opening slowly.  
He blinked a few times, trying to understand where he was and what had happened.  
He felt like something had crawled in his mouth and died there, and it was hard for him to breathe.  
when he realized it was because there was an unmoving weight on his back, and then that it was a dead body pressing him into the floor, he scrambled up, so fast it actually took him a few attempts before he actually managed to stand up on trembling legs.  
Jason and Chad were there to help him in an instant, and it's only then that he realized who the body belonged to, falling down on his knees again.  
"No" he murmured, hoarsely "no. Tell me he didn't-tell me he didn't."  
Chad swallowed and looked away, and that was all the confirmation Jensen needed.  
Chris was curled in a corner of the room and didn't acknowledge him or his words.  
Jared had given up his life to save Jensen's, and all Jensen wanted was to die.  
"Jay" he called out, his voice low and shaky.  
"Hey, no, Jay, come on. You don't get to pull this stunt just because you're pissed at me."  
He chuckled bitterly and extended his hand towards Jared's body, stopping right before his fingers made contact.  
His observing, trained brain was bothered by something, but he was too shocked to give it the proper attention, so he struggled between his mind and heart during a handful of seconds before he managed to settle on what it was.  
"Misha said the chosen one can be stripped of his powers and immortality by bleeding him dry" he stated, looking straight at Chris "but there's no blood here."  
Chris slowly lifted his head, a frown marring his face.  
"What do you mean?" he inquired, and he sounded so weak and tired that Jensen had to physically restrain himself from marching up to him and shaking him until he snapped out of it.  
"No blood on Jared's body" Jensen explained "none."  
That seemed to do the trick, because Chris was up and next Jared's body in the blink of an eye.  
He turned his best friend face up and inspected his arm: where there was a river of blood only a handful of minutes before, there was nothing more but tanned, unmarred skin.  
The cut Jared had made on his wrist was gone.  
"It can't be" Chris murmured.  
"But...you're alive!" he pointed out, and spin Jensen around so fast that Jensen felt dizzy.  
"No wound here either..." he brushed his fingertips against Jensen's naked back, looking puzzled and confused.  
"This makes no sense" Chad stated "there are no precedents for this."  
"I don't give a fuck!" Chris snapped.  
"All I care about is Jared!"  
As if he had heard him, Jared let out a long pained groan, before opening his eyes, that went instantly wide when he saw Jensen standing there.  
"Jensen!" he exclaimed, trying to stand up but failing.  
Jensen wanted to say a million things, including _you're an idiot_ and _who gave you the right to scare me this way_ and maybe even _don't you dare do anything like that ever again_ , but he didn't say any of it.  
He just threw himself in Jared's arms and held on, hiding his relief and the few traitorous tears that managed to escape against Jared's collarbone.  
They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity and an instant at the same time, until Chris cleared his throat.  
"We gotta bolt, lovebirds" he stated, going for gruff and dismissive and failing spectacularly "I can already hear the sirens approaching."  
Jared nodded, but grabbed Jensen's hand before he could move back, as if he didn't want to break the connection yet.  
Jensen rolled his eyes, but considering he had been the first to initiate the contact and the way he could feel his cheek burn, he didn't say anything about it.  
Not like he had anything against it, anyway.  
He spared a glance for Misha and his goons, lying in their own blood, before following Jared and the rest out of the lab and then the building.

 

  
"We're taking you home now, then we bolt" Jared muttered as they reached their car, and Jensen froze on the spot.  
"What?"  
Jared turned and carefully avoided his eyes.  
"We have to leave" he repeated "who knows who else was aware of Misha's plans, who knows who else might be after us. You know we can't-"  
"I got that!" Jensen snapped, interrupting him.  
"What I don't understand is why you're leaving me behind!"  
Jared bit his lower lip.  
"Jensen, you have your life here" he said, slowly, as if he was trying to somehow soothe him.  
"I could never ask you to throw everything away to come with us. Ours is not life."  
"Neither is mine!" Jensen exclaimed, clenching his fists.  
"I don't have family, I don't have friends, I don't have anything worth living for. All that kept me going was my job, and now I can't go back there ever again, so what the fuck do you expect me to stay for?"  
Jared's gaze shifted, as he fidgeted.  
"I still think that you should try" he insisted, and really, Jensen had about _enough_.  
"So what about my powers then, uh? My immortality? You forced your blood in me, Jared, we don't even know why are we both be alive and how this has affected me, but you're still willing to let me go through it all by myself?"  
Jared opened his mouth to reply, maybe put up some more excuses, but Chris' hand on his arm stopped him.  
"He's right, Jay" he said.  
"We don't know if he's one of us, now, and if-or when his powers will manifest he's gonna need guidance."  
Jensen nodded furiously, his eyes pleading.  
He was ready to beg, if necessary; that was the closest he had ever come to having someone to call family, and no matter how pathetic it might sound, he didn't want to lose it.  
Jared stared him down for a long moment, before sighing and nodding.  
Jensen smiled at him, wholeheartedly, and pulled him along towards the car, noticing only then that they were still holding hands.  
"Maybe we should talk about the whole _soulmates_ thing" Jared muttered as they drove away, so low that Jensen almost didn't catch it "but after everything we've been through tonight I think I'll wait a while. We're together anyway, and that's all that matters to me right now."  
Jensen squeezed his hand, and put his head on Jared's shoulder, suddenly bone tired.  
"There's nothing to talk about" he replied, already half asleep "I sort of knew we might be."  
He was too far gone to notice the way Jared's body stiffened, and he didn't hear it when Jared murmured "I didn't say that out loud."  
  


**SUNRISE**

 

**Author's Note:**

>  **Not Coming Down From:**  [bed](http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Bed)  
>  **Clawed Chained Heart:**  busy  
>  **Under The Spell Of:**  Bruno Mars & Cee Lo Green "The other side"


End file.
